The Happy One
or also "The One where they live."
AU where Tauriel followed Legolas after defeating the orcs in Laketown instead of saving Kíli
'You should be able to help him with this and the use of Athelas, Kingsfoil. Are you not descendants of the éothéod and of the lord and thus king of Dale?'
Sigrid nodded though still staring at one of the dead orcs on the floor whose black blood was seeping into the wooden planks. She knew their dialect had much in common with the language of the Rohirrim and they were descended of the éothéod, it wasn't that far of a stretch.
'Girl', the tall elven woman ordered.
Sigrid looked up and was just in time to catch the roll of parchment that was being thrown at her. The elf was gone by the time she turned her eyes back at the door.
'What's that, Siggie?' Tilda asked.
'I have no idea.' She broke the seal and within the parchment were bandages which appeard to be soked with something. On the parchment itself stood some instructions in Westron.
'These are healing instructions.'
'But we can't heal, we're no elves! What are we supposed to do with this?' Tilda wondered.
[/i]The dwarf![/i] Sigrid realized. The elf must have known he was ill and wanted to help him.
She rushed to the bedroom and found it in complete disarray. About four orcs lay here. She cringed whilst stepping over them. Their stench was incredible and their fowl faces made her stomach turn. Then she saw something moving underneath one.
'Help me!' she screamed. Some dwarves came rushing in and helped her lift the corpse from Kíli; The handsome dwarf looked even worse than before. Her eyes trailed to the bed. It was thrown aside and had cracks everywhere.
'Lay him on a flat surface. I believe that elf wants us to save him.'
She ran to the kitchen and turned the table upright. At that moment, the dwarf with the odd hat walked in. She only remembered the names of the King under the Mountain and his nephews.
'Is that the kingsfoil you went looking for?' 'It is.'
The others had put Kíli on the table by now and her sister had lain the parchment on the table with all the other things.
'Tilda, could you boil some alcohol please, the purest thing we've got.' While her sister ran off she quickly read through the plan. Disinfecting the wound, yes boiling alcohol would do. Apply kingsfoil and… She could barely believe what she next read. Under that sentence stood an elvish text, the words spelled in Westron. The elf intended for a human to use an elvish incantation?
'How could a spell by a human in any way work? This is ridiculous.' 'But Siggie, hasn't our greatgrandfather married some noblewoman of Gondor?' 'I cannot see why that matters', Sigrid mutters disctractedly while dipping a piece of her skirt in the boiling water. The dwarves had already rid Kíli of his pants and his old bandages so she immediately begon to disinfect the wound. The dwarf hissed and pulled his leg away.
'Hold him still.'
'So she's a Dunedain. Notice how almost everyone in our family has lived to be around hundred twenty to hundred sixty years of age since? What if it's because of the elven blood in our great-grandmother's lineage?'
'Even if it were so as that she would have elven blood. It must be so thin by now that I do not believe it would matter. Anyhow, I can only try.'
She removed her skirt and started rubbing the kingsfoil in as described while muttering the words. She hoped she pronounced them right and didn't accidentally kill the dwarf by incorrectly pronouncing a word. He looked so young, she didn't want to even fasten his untimely death.
His eyes fluttered open and held contact with her blue ones. She broke eye contact to finish the text. She bandaged the wound and at that moment her brother came rushing in. 'Smaug, it's Smaug! We should get away as soon as possible.'
In the next quarter of an hour so many things happened she could barely process it all. Them getting into a boat, her brother jumping out of it, the dragon unleashing an inferno over the town, not finding her family again back on shore until her father was suddenly there, embracing her.
'Sigrid', a deep voice asked. She let go of her father to see the young dwarf standing there. Some colour had returned to his skin. She bit her lip. He was really rather handsome and barely any shorter than her. 'Kíli, are you alright?'
'Quite alright thanks to you. I want to thank you for healing me.'
'It was nothing, really. I just followed the instructions the elven woman left behind.'
'Tauriel', he smiled.
'Could be.'
'Yet it was you, not her, who helped me.' 'I could have just as easily killed you.' 'At least you would have tried. I just want to know one thing: how could you have saved me?'
'I'm wondering too. The elf- Tauriel, said something about being of royal lining as my grandfather was Lord and thus some sort of King of Dale and Tilda said something about Dunedain blood flowing through our vains. But honestly, I believe it to be plain luck.'
'If there's anything I've learned on my journey so far it's to never underestimate the power of sheer luck, we have a hobbit in our company who seems to have a never ending amount of it and it has been of great help so far.'
He turned to Bard, smiling. 'I want to thank you and your family. You've been of great help. But now we must leave for the mountain.'
He smiled once more at Sigrid before leaving. 'And you haven't had any other moments with him.
After trying to persuade Thorin to give the town their share and a long discussion with Thranduil, her father came back to the old house they had claimed as temporarily living place.
'What is it, da?' Sigrid asked while pulling the covers over a sleeping Tilda.
'He refused and the hobbit came to us with the Arkenstone when darkness fell. He says it's probably the only thing Thorin would bargain for.'
'But he promised.' 'I know, sweetheart.'
'And what about all the others, are they just agreeing with his unreasonableness?' 'They are his kin and his people. They hate his decisions as much as that little hobbit but they wouldn't defy his orders. But I am afraid that we'll have to wage war tomorrow. I believe Thorin would rather kill us and take the stone from between our dead fingers than giving us some of that gold.'
'You shouldn't say things like that, dad. The mountain is full of it and isn't it common knowledge that dwarves have a big feeling of honour? Wouldn't that mean that they wouldn't want to break a promise?' Bain protested.
'Yes, by all means it should mean that. But Thorin has the same gold fever as his grandfather I'm afraid.'
It did turn out into a battle. Both in the old city and on the mountain. Though the only thing Sigrid knew while the battle was going on that those dirty creatures and their friends were attacking all the people she loved and she couldn't find her father or brother anywhere. Again.
While she and her sister were defending themselves in the city, a hobbit ran over the hills, completely invisible. 'Thorin! It's a- it's a trap!' he shouted. Thorin turned around surprised to find Bilbo standing there.
'Fíli,Kíli!'
As he turned around, Fíli was dangling of the edge, held by Azog. But before the blond's throat could be cut, an arrow hit the orc straight in the eye. He let go of Fíli. Plummeting towards his death he was caught just in time by Kíli. Thorin, Dwalin and Tauriel rushed to the building.
The battle had passed. Everywhere in the streets people were washing the walls and carrying bodies away. Sigrid and Tilda were tending to people with injuries. They'd heard what had happened at the real battlefield and the fight that had taken place on the nearby mountain peak where Thorin had died after defeating Azog the Defiler. That made Fíli the rightful king under the mountain.
After the battle and burying his uncle's body, he had called for king Thranduil of Mirkwood and Bard. He had asked how much Bard thought he needed to rebuilt the city, plant crops and buy fabrics for almost everything had sunk to the bottom of the lake. He was quite generous, partially as a pardon for his uncle's behavior and part out of genuine kindness.
Thranduil got some of the jewelry he wanted, though not all and trading arrangements were made between the three.
But there was something extra in the contract between Esgaroth and the Mountain. Fíli wanted to show his willingness to form a strong and permanent band between the two by a marriage. Bard had some doubts, who wouldn't? Marrying one of your daughters of to a dwarf with a lifespan the double of theirs? And dwarves weren't exactly the most civilized, gentle people he had ever met. But when he asked his oldest daughter who had only a month ago reached the precious age of sixteen, she convinced him of the advantages. A smart one Sigrid was, beautiful and kind just like her mother. It would be hard to part from her.
Kíli and Sigrid didn't love each other yet when they were wed at the respective ages of seventy eight and sixteen, but they were fond enough of each other to make it work. Though Kíli still thought about Tauriel from time to time, how his brother, she and himself had fought at the mountain peak, he felt his love for her fade with each passing day. There had been a time when he thought about telling her how he felt but was glad he didn't. He wanted to save his first declaration of love for his tiny wife who looked marvelous in the dwarven clothes their family had left after the battle. Tauriel would have never looked so right in those garments and under the ground. Though he didn't tell her he loved her. Not yet. He wanted to mean them.
Their room was always filled with wild flowers she plucked each day and it reminded him of the time he still roamed the lands, sleeping under the starry night. She was full of kind smiles and hard discussions when she insisted she was right about something. He had always had a thing for a woman with a strong opinion. But she knew when to pick her battles. She wrinkled her nose time after time after their morning and evening kiss. She didn't like beards. But she knew how silly it would be to say such a thing to a dwarf, yet it amused him to no end. Peace and prosperty came to the area and not long after the battle of the five armies, as they would later call it, Esgaroth and the Lonely Mountain were restored to their former glory.
It had been three harsh years, rebuilding the town and the kingdom under the mountain and people were still mourning their losses, but the economy wasn't the only thing that grew.
Kíli found his wife on a certain day at the grave of his uncle. She had lit a candle which stood on the iron pedestal right in front of the feet of the golden statue of Thorin.
'I just realized it has been three years since it happened', she whispered. Another oddity of his wife, she was always silent in the Hall Of The Kings That Were. He used to talk loudly, because like that, he felt as if he was having a real conversation with the dead.
'Three years? It feels just like yesterday.'
She smiled but her eyes didn't laugh along. Every time the subject of time her face turned solemn.
'He would have liked to see this, how beautiful everything's become. You know, he must seem a bad man in your eyes. First forcing your father to help then refusing payment. But in the hours before his death, when the battle was raging on outside, he had a change of heart. He snapped out of his dragon sickness and became once more the man I recognized as my uncle. He did everything that lay in his power to save his kin. He really had the best intention, it's just that the gold corrupted him. He'd been so obsessed with retaking this mountain…' Kíli trailed off into silence only snapping out of his thoughts when she took his broad hands in hers.
'I believe you. You are a good man, as is your brother. In all my life I have never met a mean dwarf. It would only make sense for your uncle to be a good one as well.'
He gave her a gentle smile. 'What is bothering you, dearest? You carry a certain weight with you, have for a couple of days.'
Sigrid bit her lip. She'd been waiting for a good moment to tell him. Now seemed as good a time as any. 'I am with child.'
'You- you are? That's… Marvelous!'
'Is it? We don't have a clue of what is to become of it.'
'It, will undoubtedly become a very loved creature. I'll love it. How can I not when I love it's mother so much?'
She looked up, eyes filled with surprise. She'd resigned herself to never hearing those words again. She'd been attracted to him ever since he came out of her toilet, infatuated ever since they made eyecontact the night she healed him and in love by the end of their second month together. But she never told him. She refused to tell him about her affections as long as she wasn't certain he returned them. It would be too painful if he didn't return them and she had too much self respect to put herself through that pain. So many times she'd been at the brink of saying it- screaming it even she'd been equally saddened as angered by him. She ached for him to say it, to touch her and not only at night or during their two daily kisses.
'You love me?' 'With all my heart.'
'I love you too.' And then kissed her and her whole being was set aflame.
Seven months later, a baby was born. It was a boy and both men and dwarves claimed it looked like a child from their people. By the age of twenty, the boy was slightly taller than most other dwarves of his age and more sturdy than an average human boy of ten. His name was Thorí and he was loved by everyone who met him.
Not much after the birth of his nephew, Fíli married a dwarven girl of the Blue Mountain and all was peaceful for fifty seven wonderful years after Erebor was rebuilt. But the shadows in the east were growing each day and there would be a time when they had to pick up the blades again. At the age of seventy-six, Sigrid would have to say goodbye to her husband once more. He and Fíli left for war to protect the borders, leaving the kingdom in the hands of Dáin. When the war started, Erebor and Dale were attacked by Easterners and both Dáin and king Brand died protecting it. There wasn't a word from the two brothers during this whole time and Sigrid, who had by now outlived her father, brother and sister, feared for the worst until one day, a month after Sauron was defeated, the two of them returned. Kíli missing an eye "Hit by a bowman who was apparently as good as me" and Fíli missing a few fingers. But they were alive. And to Sigrid and Fíli's wife, that was all that mattered though they had to rebuilt Dale and Erebor for a second time.
Death finally came for Sigrid at the age of one hundred and thirty-one and though very old by human standards, she had aged gracefully.
After her death, Kíli stayed for ten more years with his three sons before travelling the world to visit all Kingdoms of the sons of Durin. He ended his journey in Moria. Along with an army he had raised, he decided to rid this place of the orcs which had defiled it. Though they did succeed in their mission, Kíli died of injury, rejoining his wife in the Eternall Halls.
Notes:
I know I toyed around with incorrect facts a lot.
But:
- it is not as unlikely to form a union of that kind I believe
- it might be possible that they once had blood of elfs in their family, though indeed extremely think. Besides there are many people today who reach the age of 120 or even higher, so 131 is not that far of a stretch
- I wanted to future Dáin as King of Erebor for at least a short time period.
- not the most happy ending, but it's one I would be more okay with if we had to take the first two movies into account. Taking the third into account, I would've loved for Tauriel to kill herself. If they were going for a tragic romance, her falling of those rocks into the deep or killing herself would have been agreeable options.
- I wanted to give Bard's daughters, or at least one, a bigger role. Since we were into Peter Jackson fiction already.